the dog who cried for the moon
by onymouse
Summary: Akashi tells Haisaki not to fall in love with Kise. Haisaki has never been one for following orders. AoKise, HaiKise


the dog who cried for the moon

This was how he loved:

His mother gave him a picture book filled with faded watercolors and smiled at the delicate brush of his fingers over the words. (She was not yet afraid of him.) For ten days he carried it everywhere and let his eyes worship the paintings until he had committed each one to memory. Then he went into the kitchen and turned on the stove, and one by one he tore out the pages and fed them to the fire so that no one could ever look at them again.

-o-

_One of these days,_ Akashi says, _you will look at Ryouta and see only the joints of his fingers waiting to be broken, the faint lines of arteries snaking beneath his skin. The curve of his smile will drive you mad. When he laughs you will dream of ripping his vocal cords from his throat..._

_Are you shitting me,_ Haisaki says. _I'm not going to fucking quit the team just because you have twisted psychopathic fantasies about me and Kise._

_Shougo,_ Akashi says. _I am rarely kind, and I am never wrong._ His fingers worry at a shogi piece, its edges splintering. _Dismissed_.

-o-

There was a boy at one of the no-name schools they crushed who had beautiful eyes. The occasional elegance of his passes was wasted on his teammates, but he chased after Teikou with a fierce, vicious joy, as if he cherished the game itself and not the thrill of domination. Haisaki was already in love with him by halftime.

When play resumed, he subbed in for Akashi and smiled at the thought of the blue irises rupturing beneath his fingertips. Partway through the third quarter he slapped the ball from the boy's grasp with a quick sideways jerk of his wrist. The boy flinched; Haisaki's thumbnail tore open the skin just below his left eyebrow. He did not return to the court until the end of the match, and when Haisaki approached him again he saw that the boy's gaze traced an arc from center court to the basket, following the trajectory of Midorima's last shot. There was no room in that gaze for Haisaki's existence.

For weeks afterwards he dreamed. In his dreams he was the one who made the final basket, and it was his face imprinted on the pretty eyes when he plucked them from their sockets. As he woke the sky through his window brought to mind the color of those eyes, their faint slippery weight on his palm, and he shivered with a sick exultation.

-o-

_Tell me,_ Akashi says, _did you think it would work? That he cared enough about her - or you - to let it hurt him? Poor Shougo, so desperate for scraps of his attention that you were blind to his indifference. Here, another kindness: If you want to see him cry, come look for him late at night, after Daiki's fucked him and gone. He won't be crying because of you, but I have faith in your powers of imagination._

_Shut the fuck up,_ Haisaki says. _You goddamn bastard with your fucking power games, playing at being god. And you call _me_ delusional. Can't make friends so you make servants instead, is that how it goes?_

_Ah,_ Akashi says, _how insightful you are. All that cleverness, and you still don't realize how far above you he is._ He laughs, soft and sweet. _Little dog, crying for the moon. Run along now._

-o-

One night he wandered past the courts in a sudden fit of nostalgia and heard the low moan of Kise's voice through the open doors. There was a disconcerting beauty to the scene, Kise's skin white against Aomine's, the shining strands of his hair tumbling in a golden sheet over Aomine's fingers. Kise kept turning to watch Aomine's expression, his pretty mouth shaping the words _love_ and _Daiki_, until Aomine shoved his face into the floor and snarled at him to shut up.

Haisaki drank it in: the twist of Kise's delicate features, the pale shoulders shaking with something other than physical pleasure, the sound of his cries muffled against the ground. When he turned to leave he saw that Kuroko was standing a few feet away. He was as imperturbable as always; it was impossible to tell which of them he pitied most.

-o-

_How easily you fall in love,_ Akashi says. _Just one year, a trail of broken aces in your wake. Will you believe me if I say I came to cheer you on?_

_No need for your false encouragement, thanks,_ Haisaki says. _Do try not to be too upset when I break one of your favorite toys._

_Oh, Shougo,_ Akashi says, _didn't you know? You were always my favorite._ He reaches forward to touch Haisaki's cheek, his eyes soft. _Goodbye_.

-o-

This was the story:

A long time ago, there was a dog who fell in love with the moon.

(Your hair like gold beneath the spotlights. The first time we met you shook my hand with that fucking perfect smile and looked through me at Daiki, so you probably missed the way I stared at your pretty face and thought about)

At first, he was happy to see her shining in the night sky. But soon the little dog grew jealous. It was not enough that she shone; she needed to shine only for him.

(fucking you up against the bleachers, the slick heat of your body clenching around my cock as I wrapped my hands around your throat and watched your features distort until no one would ever have guessed that you were a model. What's this, on your hands and knees again? She said)

So for many nights he cried to her in his sweet voice until at last she grew curious and drew close, and then he caught her in a net and dragged her to the ground.

(that you fucked like she was something precious, like a prince out of a fucking storybook, when all she really wanted sex instead of a fairytale, so I gave her what she wanted and pretended it was you but she enjoyed it too much and)

For a moment the little dog was triumphant.

(what the fuck Tetsuya you will not fucking take this away from me Ryouta look at me look at me look at me oh god did you know that)

But when he went closer, he realized that the moon's glow was fading, and before long all he held in his paws was a small, pitted rock.

(i loved the way you smiled when you played him like every atom of your body was screaming with some inutterable joy but you never even granted me that much so instead i will have from you your last match even if you look past me now (a bigger prize on the sidelines) even if i have to cripple you to do it (and oh how i'll enjoy it) but the biggest fucking tragedy in this whole farce is that)

Still, the foolish dog cradled her close, and dreamed that he was happy.

(i loved you more than he ever did (the sound of the buzzer)).


End file.
